Jacqueline Druga - Fallout

It was daylight. Joe needed to be on the road headed east, but for all that Mary Lou had done for him, he had to go into town to check on her. It was the least he could do.

Something was different. Toby had fallen asleep the night before finally feeling better and stronger. He only lost his balance now when he stood, instead of all the time. The guy, Cal, had slipped him two of those military MRE packs of peanut butter and Toby devoured them. He even had no problem taking a handful of water from the trough. He just had to put it out of his mind how many people’s dirty hands reached in there. Including his own.

It was weird when Cal slipped the packages to him, he wanted to hug him, thank him, but he couldn’t because he didn’t want to get the dude in trouble. It gave Toby hope that all was not lost.

The protein, the peanut butter was what his body needed. For soul, mind, and body. It powered him up enough that when he woke up he was ready to work on that hole by the fence. The area by the body barricade, not even the soldiers went near there. A section a little over two feet long where there was a separation between the fence and ground. Every couple of hours, Toby would walk by, stare out and use his foot to push the dirt, then the next round, he would bend down, grab a handful of dirt and move on.

Eventually that hole in the ground under the fence would be big enough for him to slip through. Maybe not Harris, but Harris said that was fine. If Toby got out he could try to find help… if there was any to be found.

His mouth was dry when he woke up, which was typical because he was still breathing only through is mouth and Harris wasn’t nearby.

He grumbled out his daily, “Hey,” and when Harris didn’t answer, Toby grew concerned.

Stumbling to stand, Toby held onto the wall until he had his balance. He wanted to make his way to the one water barrel and grab a drink.

When he got there, the barrel was on its side and the entire area around it wet.

Someone had knocked it over. He bent down to touch it and his senses kicked in. He hadn’t noticed it when he opened his eyes because it was always noisy, but on this morning, he heard the sound of trucks, lots of them, in the distance.

Within seconds he heard shouting, voices all meshed together, and he couldn’t make out what they were saying. He looked up and that was when he saw what seemed like every single person in the camp standing at the fences.

Their arms were flailing, voices shouting.

The entire prison yard was empty, they were all there.

He spotted Harris standing in the back. He was hard to miss, he was so tall, and Toby made his way to him.

“Dude,” Toby said.

Harris did a double take as if surprised to see Toby. “Hey.”

“Why am I sleeping through everything?”

Harris shook his head. “I just walked over here myself.”

“The barrel is knocked over,” Toby said.

“Yeah, there’s no water.”

“At all?”

“At all. The soldiers came in and emptied it.”

“Is that why people are shouting?” Toby asked.

“No. They’re shouting because it looks like their pulling out,” Harris said. “Something is happening, we just don’t know what and we’re trapped in here.”

Immediately, Toby turned.

“Where are you going?” Harris asked.

“We aren’t trapped. My hole man, the one I have been working on. I can finish it.” Toby made his way toward the hole.

“Toby. Wait,” Harris called.

Toby didn’t. He was excited. If the soldiers pulled out he could work on that hole without anyone stopped him. But as soon as he got there, he dropped down to the ground in defeat.

“I tried to stop you,” Harris said out of breath. “They did this last night.”

Toby shook his head. Not only was his small hole filled in, but a trench of concrete and rocks had been placed in the vulnerable area. Toby touched it, it was still damp, but it served its purpose.

The idea of escaping under the fence was snuffed.

Like Harris had said, they really were trapped.

Just before the Sundrive Gas and Go was the check point that Joe went through daily. While he was certain the soldiers there knew him, it was Sunday and a day Joe didn’t go into town. He pulled out his identification and planned to be honest when they asked why he wasn’t dressed properly.

A friend was in need.

He could have gotten to Farmersville High school faster and easier, but all the side roads and most access roads were blocked.

With the roadblock in his sight, Joe slowed down the truck.

As he pulled closer he wondered, where were the soldiers? The blockade gate was across the road, but the post where the four soldiers usually stood was empty.

Joe leaned toward the steering wheel, peering close to the windshield as he drove slowly toward the gate. He was so focused on looking for the guards, he never saw what caused the thump and jolt of his truck.

He ran over something.

Joe stopped the truck, opened the door, and stepped out. When he did his foot landed right on the body of a soldier.

Quickly, Joe jumped out of the way. He had run over a soldier; how did he do that? Unless he was already on the road.

Walking backwards, Joe moved away from the truck and he heard the buzzing of flies. As if in slow motion, he turned around. The guard soldiers were there, only they, like the one under his truck, were on the ground.

He stepped closer to take a look. He didn’t need to be a doctor to know they were dead and that they hadn’t been shot or stabbed. All of their faces were a pale shade of blue. Their lips and noses were purple, and a pinkish foam seeped from their nostrils and mouths.

Horrified of what he saw and frightened that somehow he would be blamed, Joe opened the gate and got in his truck and drove to town. He decided he was going to make a beeline to headquarters to report it.

Problem was, it was more of the same when he arrived in town.

Military vehicles had crashed, soldiers lay dead in the street and by the cars. Joe slowed down enough to look, now understanding what Mary Lou had meant by, “They’re all dead.”

Frightened for her, knowing she was scared, Joe made the left on Florence Avenue and picked up speed to the high school.

He stopped at the check point, but when he stepped from the truck, he knew he was able to drive right through.

The bussing sound of flies was loud, adding a backdrop hum that broke the eerie silence.

It wasn’t more of the same. There were four dead Chinese soldiers, but unlike the others, they were surrounded by a pool of blood.

They had been shot.

Joe drove through and went as far as he could. The yard area was filled with tents and cots, blocking the driveway and Joe had to walk.

More dead soldiers and not a whimper, cough, or moan from those ill on the cots or tents.

Everybody?

At that moment, Joe stopped walking and he ran. He ran as fast as he could to the gymnasium building.

The doors were open and as he raced in, he nearly tripped over the body of another soldier. He was different. He wasn’t riddled with bullets or sickness, he had been butchered. Stabbed so many times, his neck was nearly decapitated. When he looked away from the body, that was when he saw Mary Lou. She stood center of the gym, amongst all of the bodies on cots.

Every single body was covered.

Mary Lou raised a gun to her head.

“Stop!” Joe yelled out. “Stop.”

Slowly she turned around. She was covered with blood. “Joe,” she whimpered. “You’re supposed to be gone.”

“What are you doing?” Joe walked to her. “What happened here?”